


Hard to see the light now, just don't let it go

by turnitintolove



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: And no one dies, Angst, F/F, I'm sorry?, PTSD, So much angst, but it has a hopeful ending?, you may want to read something happy after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4229064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnitintolove/pseuds/turnitintolove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Peggy was moving up the ranks in the SSR and running covert operations, Angie was being stripped of her humanity.  She’s been keeping these horrors locked away for five years, and Peggy doesn’t know how she hasn’t drowned in them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The L&L was just at the end of the lunch rush when Peggy sat down at the counter, smiling as Angie quickly set down her usual with a grin.

 

“Right on time.  I swear I’m gonna set my watch to you.”

 

“You don’t wear a watch.”  Peggy nods to Angie’s empty wrist as she picks up her fork.

 

“I could always start.”  Angie shrugs before turning around to pick up a fresh carafe of coffee.

 

Peggy enjoys this time of day at the L&L. The sun is starting its slow descent behind the buildings and the patrons tend to be quieter, kinder. The current patrons are all a little older than the usual rush crowd.  They have the extra time that only bosses can use to leisurely enjoy their meal.

 

As Peggy eats she hears the whoosh of the revolving door as two men in business suits enter and sit at the counter. Angie throws a “Be with you in a sec” over her shoulder as she takes orders from an elderly couple in the far booth. The men murmur to each other while Peggy continues to eat.

 

Angie rounds the counter and pulls off the newest ticket from her pad to hand off to the kitchen.  She throws Peggy another smile as she comes to stand in front of her two new customers.  “What can I get ya?”

 

Peggy watches her bright smile freeze on her face and the color in her flushed cheeks drain.  She backs up from the men seated at the counter until she hits the rack of extra condiments and napkins.  Angie jumps slightly when she runs out of room, her breathing picking up as her wide eyes stay focused on the two strangers.  Peggy’s hand tightens around her fork as she takes in the scene.

 

“Angela.”  The man closest to her says in an icy tone.  “How have you been doing?  It’s been what, five years?”

 

“What do you want?”  Angie whispers in a strained way.  Peggy can hear the fear in her voice.  “I did what you wanted, I stayed away.”

 

“Now now, Angela.  I just wanted to check up on you.  See that you were staying out of trouble.”  The man leans forward on his elbows as his companion studies Angie in a cold, clinical way.

 

“How did you find me?”

 

“One of our nurses recognized you from your file. Told me where I could find my sister in case I wanted to check in on her.  She wanted to make sure we’d set you straight.  I came to see that we did our jobs right.”

 

Peggy stares in horror as so many realizations click themselves into place.  She had known about Angie for a while.  Angie had built a beautiful façade over her thick walls, only Peggy hadn’t figured out what it was that she was hiding.  She had seen the fleeting glances filled with a pained longing and felt the lingering hugs and touches.  She always figured that Angie would tell her in her own time.  She hadn’t thought that Angie would be hiding a past she was too afraid to think about.

 

“Please go.”  Angie’s voice is quiet and it sounds like she’s begging.

 

“It looks to me like you’ve adjusted well, Angela. Wouldn’t you think so, Mr. Bergler? You remember Mr. Bergler, don’t you?” The man, Angie’s brother relaxes back into his seat as he gestures to the man seated to him. He nods at Angie and continues to study her.

 

Angie tries to take a breath, “Please go,” she asks again, her hands gripping the shelves behind her.

 

Peggy knows what a person looks like before they’re about to lose consciousness.  She’s out of her seat and around the counter as Angie sways on her feet and her eyes roll back.  Peggy catches Angie before she crumples to the ground.  “Angie!” Peggy cradles her head in her lap and shoos away the fry cook who has stepped out from the kitchen.

 

“I see that my sister has moved on to more dramatic methods.  Maybe we should look into bringing her back.  I’m sure the hospital will cover the costs this time.”  He takes out a notebook and begins to jot down a few notes.

 

“You will take her nowhere.”  Peggy tells him in an even tone.

 

“Who are you, might I ask?  My sister’s keeper?  I don’t think you understand Miss, but my sister has been ill for a long time. I’ve been trying to find ways to fix her and others like her.”  He reaches into his pocket and flicks a card towards Peggy, _Christophe Martinelli, Bellevue Hospital._

“There is nothing wrong with her. Anything that is wrong was created by the likes of you.”  Peggy spits as she slowly stands and pulls Angie into her arms.  Her body is warm against Peggy’s, her head falling onto Peggy’s shoulder.

 

“I can have you arrested for associating with her. She has files and records.” His tone is even as he makes his threat.

 

“I can kill you and make it look like an accident.” Peggy replies in an even calmer tone as she stands at her full height.  “If you ever come near her again, I will make your life unbearably difficult.” Peggy doesn’t elaborate; she carries Angie out the back of the diner and hails a cab while she readjusts the way that Angie’s body rests in her arms.

 

Peggy doesn’t let her go once she’s settled into the back of the cab.  She holds Angie close as the car weaves through the traffic of the early afternoon. Peggy brushes her fingers through Angie’s hair and notices them for the first time.  Burn marks on the inside of her hairline just next to her temple; not much larger than a quarter.  For the first time in a while, Peggy feels the threatening sting of tears. She presses a kiss to the top of Angie’s head and watches the world go by in a wet blur.

 

Angie still hasn’t woken by the time Peggy gets her home and lays her down on her bed.  Even unconscious she looks troubled; whatever thoughts that had caused this clearly still hold her in a vice grip.  Peggy is gentle as she pulls off Angie’s shoes and sets them aside followed by her hairpins and the starched L&L hat.  Next she begins to unbutton the bright uniform that smells of stale grease and the detergent that Jarvis supplies them with. Angie’s body is soft and pliant while Peggy maneuvers her out of her uniform.  Her hands are light and tender as she rolls Angie’s stockings down her legs, her fingers brushing the slight discoloration around both of her ankles.

 

Peggy has so many questions that she isn’t sure she wants answered.  Angie looks so small on the bed, her body curling in on itself as Peggy sets a blanket over her. She bends to kiss Angie’s forehead and run her finger through her hair, Peggy’s fingers brushing over the scars still left behind.  “Oh my darling,” she whispers.

 

Peggy is quick to rid herself of the day’s clothes and makeup.  Pulling on a silk nightgown and wrapping herself in a robe.  When she reenters Angie’s room, she hasn’t moved.  So Peggy settles herself on the overstuffed armchair across from the bed to watch over Angie.

 

When Peggy wakes it’s to the sound of Angie screaming. She begs for mercy as her body pulls against restraints that are no longer there.  Her body taut as she strains her voice to scream louder. She moves like a woman possessed by demons, only these demons aren’t found in scriptures; they’re found in rooms with white walls with the intent to fix what isn’t broken.  Peggy stands over Angie and tries to wake her.

 

“Angie, please wake up.”  Peggy is afraid to touch her, having seen men come back with combat fatigue.  She doesn’t want to risk getting hit or scaring Angie when she wakes.

 

Angie screams again, the vein in her neck popping as she turns away from Peggy.  Her body jolts as she wakes, she gasps before vomiting in her bed a moment later. Angie’s breaths come out ragged as she continues to cough and sob.

 

“Angie?”  Peggy whispers, her hand coming to rest on a clammy back. Angie’s eyes are glassy when she turns to look at Peggy.  Glassy and haunted. “I’m going to run you a bath. Does that sound alright?”

 

Angie doesn’t respond, but she allows Peggy to pull her to her feet and lead her into the adjoining bathroom. Peggy seats her at the vanity while she sets about filling the tub and pouring in some of the scented oils that line the side.  Once the taps have been turned off the only sound that Peggy can hear is Angie’s uneven breathing as she stares out at nothing.

 

“Would you like me to leave you alone?” Peggy kneels in front of Angie, ignoring the smell of drying vomit and sweat.  Angie twitches her head to the side, “No?”  This time Angie’s shake of her head is a little more defined. “Okay.”  Peggy pulls Angie to her feet and tenderly cups her face. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  I promise.”

 

Angie nods but doesn’t look Peggy in the eye; instead she stares down at the floor.  Peggy leans forward to kiss her hairline before stepping back and easing Angie’s slip over her body.  She throws it into the hamper that sits in the corner of the large bathroom and steps behind Angie to start unhooking her brassier.  Peggy guides it down Angie’s slim shoulders.  She brushes her fingers over light scars along the back of her ribcage. Peggy begins to wonder what caused them, she wonders until Angie wraps her arms around herself and her fingers rest over them.

 

Peggy sucks in a breath and squeezes her eyes shut.

 

Angie is still as Peggy pulls her underwear down her legs, stepping out of them with mechanical movements.  Angie stands bare before her; muscles lean from hours spent at the automat and in dance classes.   Muscles tense from her living nightmare.  Peggy guides her to the large bathtub and helps her to step into the hot water. She stares at the wall in front of her while Peggy begins to wet her hair with soapy water.

 

As she slowly runs her fingers through Angie’s damp hair, Peggy beings to notice more marks on Angie’s body. Faded lash marks mar her back and she finds more of the same quarter sized burns along her hairline and the sides of her breasts.  Peggy allows her tears to fall as she traces them with the lightest touch.

 

“Oh Angie.”

 

It’s then that Angie squeezes her own eyes shut and begins to rock herself; fingers clawing at the skin on her back like she wants to escape her own skin.  She mutters to herself so quietly that Peggy has to lean over the edge of the tub to hear her mantra of “Not broken.”  She repeats it to herself over and over and over.

 

Peggy sucks in a sharp breath. She gently turns Angie’s head to face her and waits for her eyes to open.  “Angie, you are not broken.”  She tells her in firm voice that allows no argument.

 

Angie looks at Peggy for the first time since they were at the diner hours before.  She furrows her eyebrows in confusion, eyes searching Peggy for the lie that isn’t there. The sob that escapes her is loud and tears Peggy in two.  Angie curls in on herself as she cries.  Peggy is quick to stand and step into the tub behind Angie, she doesn’t care that her robe or nightgown are soaked immediately.

 

The water in the tub sloshes over the side as Peggy kneels behind Angie’s trembling body, holding her close while Angie cries like Peggy is the first person to tell her that she isn’t broken. That she isn’t wrong, or ill, or shouldn’t exist.  Peggy cries because she realizes that maybe she is the first person to tell Angie that she has worth.

 

“You are not broken.”  Peggy repeats over Angie’s sobs as her hands come up to grip Peggy’s arms.  “You are not broken and you are loved.  You are loved.” Peggy tells her again, this time quieter as she pulls Angie’s body even closer to hers.

 

Once the water has cooled and Angie’s breathing has calmed to an occasional hiccup, Peggy stands the two of them up and helps Angie step out onto the plush bathmat.  Peggy wraps her in one of the soft robes hanging with the other linens and begins to dry her with a soft touch.  Peggy guides her into the bedroom, where she picks out clean pajamas for Angie and continues to pull her through the door and into the hallway.

 

Once they’re in Peggy’s room she helps Angie into dry clothes and guides her to lie down in Peggy’s large bed. She quickly changes out of her own soaked gown and climbs in next to Angie, pulling her body so that Angie’s head rests over her heart.  She hopes that Angie can feel the love that she has for her, whether in her warm arms or the steady beat of her heart.

 

Peggy hears Angie take a ragged deep breath, feels the way her arms wrap tight around her as her body begins to shake again with muffled sobs.  “You are safe here. You will always be safe right here.” She tightens her hold on Angie’s body, one of her hands coming to rest at the back of her head. At some point, Angie cries herself into a fitful sleep.

 

When Peggy wakes several hours later it’s to empty arms, but Angie hasn’t moved far; she sits on the edge of the bed with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.  Her fingers dig into the cotton of her nightgown and she takes deep, deliberate breaths.

 

“Angie?”  Peggy whispers, afraid to reach out and touch her, should she startle Angie out of what is clearly a practiced method to calm herself.

 

Angie breathes out and in twice before she speaks, “They sent me to that place in 1940, two weeks after I turned 20. My brother followed me to The Howdy the night after my birthday.”  Peggy sits up in the bed but doesn’t move closer.  “When I got home they were all sitting in the living room, just staring at me. Like I wasn’t me, you know? My Ma was crying and my Pop was gripping his belt in his hand.”

 

Peggy doesn’t need Angie to elaborate; she can hear the anger in her voice at the mention of his belt.

 

“They wouldn’t talk to me.  Or look at me.  They didn’t look at me until my brother came home with a piece of paper saying that these people he was working for could _fix_ me. And then they wouldn’t stop looking at me like I was broken, like they could see the cracks.”

 

Peggy stares at the way her back is straight and her hands rest near the scars of where Angie has tried to claw herself out of her own skin.  Her hair falls in disheveled waves, hiding the scars just inside her hairline. Peggy doesn’t see cracks; she sees scars healed over and a woman trying to hold herself together. If there had been any cracks to begin with, Peggy is sure they’d have been filled with gold.

 

“When they came to get me, no one would touch me. No one in my family had touched me since I came home that night.”  Peggy understands now, Angie’s need for human touch.  She needs to know that she isn’t toxic, she isn’t a mistake, to be reassured that she’s there.  That she belongs on this earth.

 

Angie doesn’t speak for a while, taking long and deep breaths.  Her fingers flex against her body, like maybe they’re deciding to open new wounds or not.

 

“How long were you there?”  Peggy asks quietly, still not moving from her place on the bed.

 

“Two years.”

 

Two years.  Peggy thinks about the dates.  Angie had been locked away for something she couldn’t change for two years.

 

“They started with little stuff. Therapy every day, showing me pictures of men, stuff I could handle.  But then it got harder.  They started hitting me when they didn’t like what I’d say.  A few months in is when the electro therapy started.”  Her voice is flat, like she’s reading a list of facts from a textbook.  “Picture of a woman, shock.  Picture of a woman, shock. Picture of a man, a drink of water. Picture of a woman, shock.” She repeats the pattern a few times until her voice trails off.

 

Peggy clenches her fists around the bed sheets. Her instinct is to run out the door and set fire to the building that created Angie’s nightmares. Instead she lets silent tears stream down her face.

 

“They let me go on December 20th, 1942. Said there wasn’t anything else they could do.  Only I had nowhere else to go after that.  My folks didn’t want me, and Christophe had been there the whole time, taking notes on my _progress_.” Angie is quiet again, letting the new information wash over Peggy.  The only sounds in the room are Angie’s deep breaths and Peggy’s sniffles as she tries to compose herself.  “I stayed at a few shelters while I worked and saved up enough to find a cheap place of my own. Never really stayed in one place too long, in case they came looking.”

 

While Peggy was moving up the ranks in the SSR and running covert operations, Angie was being stripped of her humanity. She’s been keeping these horrors locked away for five years, and Peggy doesn’t know how she hasn’t drowned in them.

 

“I’ll understand if you want me to go.” Peggy is shocked by the statement, but even more so, she’s heartbroken by it.  That Angie could believe on any level that Peggy wouldn’t want her around because of something that is woven into her very being is maybe the worst thing she’s heard.

 

Peggy finally moves, climbing over the sheets and blankets to rest her body flush against Angie’s.  She wraps her arms around her, holding her close even though Angie’s body stiffens at the contact.  “I understand if this takes a while for you to believe,” Peggy’s voice is quiet but deliberate, “but there is nothing wrong with you. There never was. And I’d very much like for you to stay.”

 

Angie hangs her head, allowing her body to relax in Peggy’s arms.  When Peggy feels the tears dripping onto her arms, she tightens her hold.  “You are loved Angie.  You are loved for being exactly who you are.”

 

“But I’m – ”

 

“You are kind.  You are strong, forgiving, beautiful, and have the biggest heart of anyone I know.  I am grateful for the place you have in my life.  And I wouldn’t change anything about you.  If I could take your demons away, I would.  But I can promise you that I’ll be here to help you fight them.”

 

As Peggy settles the two of them back onto the bed, she’s mindful of how stiff Angie’s muscles are.  She eases the two of them so that Angie’s body is tucked into Peggy’s side.  Her arms wrapped tightly around her to keep her close.  Angie’s warm breath steadies over Peggy’s collarbone as she falls into an exhausted and dreamless sleep.

 

One day she’ll tell Angie that she’s been falling in love with her since that first day at the L&L. But first she’ll help Angie learn to love herself.                                                                                                      


	2. You decide what's right, you decide what's good

Angie doesn’t get out of bed for three days. She lies in Peggy’s bed, occasionally waking from a nightmare.  Nightmares that Peggy is always there to soothe; sometimes they’re screams, sometimes they’re quiet whimpers.

 

When the automat calls to inquire about Angie’s absence, Peggy tells them she’s taken ill.  When Agent Thompson calls to yell about Peggy’s absence, she tells him in a cold voice that she will return when she’s fit to and hangs up.

 

On the fourth day, Peggy helps Angie into another bath. This time Angie is more aware of her surroundings.  She shies away from Peggy’s touch, avoiding her own reflection in the large mirror. She crosses her arms to cover her breasts and keeps her eyes on the floor.  Peggy tries not to cry when she sees the way that Angie folds into herself, like she’s trying to make herself smaller.

 

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Peggy asks once Angie is settled into the warm water.

 

Angie shakes her head, still not looking at Peggy.

 

She doesn’t move while Peggy wets her hair and begins to lather her hair with the expensive shampoo on the edge of the bathtub. Angie relaxes a little as Peggy’s fingers massage her scalp.  She breathes into the quiet of the bathroom, allowing Peggy to rinse her hair and run a soapy cloth along her skin.

 

“Why are you doing this?”  Angie whispers.

 

“Why am I doing what?”  Peggy isn’t sure what she’s wondering.  Is she asking about the bath?  Her acceptance?

 

“Why haven’t you told me I’m a disgrace? A mistake?  Why are you letting me stay here?”  She pulls away from Peggy’s touch, wrapping her arms around herself.  And Peggy realizes that there isn’t anything between them.  Angie has no armor, this her, bare and raw.

 

Peggy pauses, watching water droplets fall from Angie’s lashes and into the bathwater.  She is heartbreakingly beautiful.  “This is your home.”

 

“He’ll come back for me.”  Angie says instead of another question.

 

“This is your home, Angie.  I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Peggy wishes more than anything she could make Angie believe her.

 

“He’ll tell my boss what I am. He’ll tell everyone.”

 

“What you are is not defined by anything those people say.”   Peggy’s voice is steady; she reaches for Angie’s chin and lifts her face to look into her eyes.

 

“You try telling that to everyone I’ve ever loved.” She sniffles, tears running down her cheeks.

 

“Angie –”

 

“You don’t know what it’s like, Peggy. To have everyone you love just stop loving you.  Like turning off a lamp.”

 

Peggy is quiet, running water over Angie to rinse her. She’s careful not to touch the scars that have faded into her skin.   Angie stands, the water dripping off of her and into the bathtub before she steps out and into the towel that Peggy holds open.  She allows Peggy to wrap her in the towel, wrapping her own arms around Peggy in a tight embrace.

 

“You’re the only one.”  Angie mumbles.

 

Peggy breathes in the scent of Angie. Her clean hair and skin, she feels the way her body is pressed against her own.  “You are worth loving.  Everything about you is worth loving.”

 

xxx

 

On the fifth day their phone rings on two different occasions.

 

Angie sits at their breakfast table, stabbing at a bowl of sliced fruit.

 

“Carter.”  Peggy speaks into the phone.  She’s taken the call in the nearest office in case she needs to yell at Thompson again.

 

“Peggy, I’m so glad you picked up.” Daniel sounds rushed, out of breath and nervous.

 

She sighs, “What can I do for you Agent Sousa?”

 

“A courier just dropped off some files with Rose. Said they concerned you.”

 

Peggy holds her breath, “And?”

 

“Well, Thompson didn’t want to bother with them so he threw them at me.  Told me to give him the short version.”

 

“Spit it out Daniel.”  She grips the phone a little tighter.

 

“They’re about your, well, your friend. Miss Martinelli?” He takes a deep breath, “She could go to prison.  Hell Peggy, _you_ could go to prison just for knowing her.”

 

“If you have any respect for me as an agent and her as a person you will burn those files.”  Peggy’s voice is cold and even.

 

“Peggy –”

 

“She was tortured, Daniel.  What you fought for, what you lost part of yourself for? They were doing that to her. They were doing that to her here.”

 

Daniel sighs again on the other end of the line, “Peggy, I –”

 

“You don’t have to understand. You don’t have to care. But if you have any respect, any human decency; you will burn the file and forget you ever saw it.” She almost sounds like she’s begging, almost.

 

He’s quiet for a few moments. She can hear him flipping through the pages of Angie’s file.  The file that details her hospitalization while they tried to “cure” her. “Do you love her?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“Answer the question, Peggy.” He doesn’t sound angry, he sounds like a man who needs closure.

 

She sighs, “Yes.”

 

“Okay.”  She hears the phone click into its cradle.

 

Peggy replaces the phone quietly, taking a moment to calm her nerves before returning to Angie in the kitchen. She’s just as she left her, of course. Staring at the fruit she’s barely eaten.

 

“You should eat.”  Peggy sits next to her, picking up her cup of tea and taking a sip.

 

“Who was on the phone?”

 

“Work.  Nothing to worry about,” Peggy lies.  She doesn’t need Angie to worry over her.  Not when she’s so afraid of losing her own job and being turned out of her own home again.  It’s one of the few lies that don’t burn.

 

The second phone call comes later in the day. Angie has fallen asleep in one of the armchairs, music from the gramophone softly filling the corners of the room.

 

“Carter.”  Peggy is quiet, watching Angie sleep from the opposite end of the room. She doesn’t hear a response but she can hear someone take in a breath.  “Hello?”   Peggy sighs, waiting another moment before hanging up the phone.

 

It rings a minute later.

 

“Hello?”  Her voice a little more forceful when she answers.

 

“Hello.”  A woman on the other end replies.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

The woman pauses, takes in a deep breath, “Does Angela Martinelli live at this number?”

 

“Who is asking?”  Peggy gives as an answer.

 

“Her mother.”

 

Peggy gasps, “She’s not available at the moment.” She takes in the way that Angie is curled in the armchair; her hair falling in gentle waves, feet tucked under herself, peaceful and relaxed.

 

“I’d like to speak to my daughter.” Peggy doesn’t say anything, instead she waits.  “Did you hear me?”

 

“Of course I heard you.  She’s not available at the moment.”

 

Behind her, Angie stirs and opens her eyes to see Peggy gripping the phone.

 

“Peggy?”

 

She covers the receiver with her hand, “Just a moment, darling.”

 

“Who’s on the phone?”  She stands and comes behind her.

 

Peggy sighs, she doesn’t want to lie. Not about this. “Your mother.”

 

“What?”  Angie takes a step back, afraid her mother might step out from behind the bookcase and take her away.

 

“Your mother would like to speak to you. I can tell her to leave her number if you wish.  You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

 

Angie takes a step closer and eases the phone from Peggy’s grip.  Peggy doesn’t move from next to her, watching the way she slowly raises the receiver to her ear.

 

“Mama?”  Angie’s voice cracks, and suddenly she is seven years younger. She is twenty and standing alone to face the cruel world before her.  She’s the young woman desperately needing her family to love her when all they see is someone broken.

 

Angie doesn’t speak for a while, listening to her mother on the other end.  She nods a few times and reaches for Peggy’s hand at her side and wraps it around herself, silently asking Peggy to hold her.

 

“I, yeah.  Okay.” She sucks in a sharp breath, “Bye Mama.”

 

Angie returns the phone to its cradle; a moment later she turns in Peggy’s arms and holds her close.  Peggy fits Angie’s body against her own, cradling her head against her neck as she starts to cry.

 

Peggy whispers into her hair, “You’re safe, you’re loved.  I’ve got you, darling, I’ve got you.”

 

It takes Angie a while to calm down, breathing in the scent of Peggy’s skin and feeling her hands sooth the tension from her back. “She said she loved me. She said she loved me and I couldn’t say it back.”

 

“Angie, you don’t have to.”  Peggy holds her face gently between her hands, watching the way the low light reflects gently in her glassy eyes.

 

“But she’s my –”

 

“You don’t know owe her anything. You don’t have to love her back.”

 

Angie gasps, pressing a hand against her chest like her heart may explode.  The realization sending her body into a shock.  Peggy catches her, and eases the two of them to the ground where she can pull her sit on her lap, rocking the two of them gently.

 

xxx

 

Angie agrees to meet her mother, only her mother, at a park bench in Central Park.  Peggy sits next to her, holding her hand under her folded coat so no one can see the way Angie grips her like a lifeline.

 

“We can leave whenever you want.” Peggy squeezes her hand when she sees who must be Mrs. Martinelli stop a few feet away.

 

Neither of them stands to greet her.

 

“It is good to see you Angela.” Mrs. Martinelli goes to pat Angie’s knee until she flinches away from her touch.  Peggy doesn’t miss the hurt look on her face at not being able to touch her own daughter.  “Who’s your – friend?”

 

“Margaret Carter.”  Peggy provides, seeing as Angie remains frozen on the bench, staring at the trees across the path.

 

“How do you know Angela?”  Her eyes flick to Angie and to the folded coat that rests between them.

 

“We live together.”  Peggy doesn’t elaborate; she doesn’t tell her that they’re only roommates, not lovers.

 

Mrs. Martinelli sighs, “Angela, I thought you were better.”

 

Angie snaps from her trance and finally turns to face her mother.  “Do you know what they did to me?  What you sent me to? Do you?”

 

“We were trying to help.  You are sick, Angela.”

 

“They beat me.  Did Christophe tell you that?  Did he tell you about the electrocution?  Did he tell you that they wouldn’t let me eat for days?  You let them take me away for two years, two years that I can’t get back, that I can’t erase.”  Her grip on Peggy’s hand is painful, but she doesn’t stop her. Peggy lets Angie ground herself through Peggy.

 

“We just wanted you to be better, Angela. We still do.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m finally starting to understand that.”

 

Mrs. Martinelli’s face turns hard, “You are a child Angela, you don’t understand.”

 

“No!  You don’t understand!  You made me what I am. This is who I am because you let them take me away.  I wake up screaming sometimes, thinking I’m still in that hell.  You want to know why I wanted to meet you here?  I slept on this bench the night they let me go. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I came here.”  Peggy’s eyes widen, Angie was released in December.  She thinks of Angie curling up on the very bench she occupies; frail and afraid, most likely welcoming of death after the hell she’s escaped.

 

“You could have come home.”  Her mother replies.

 

“I did.  Didn’t Papa and Christophe tell you?”  She turns to look at her mother again, tears burning in her eyes. “I went home and they told me to leave and never come back.  Said I didn’t have a place there.”  Angie breathes for a moment, when she speaks again, she is quieter.  “So I walked here.  And I was tired, so tired.  I didn’t know where to go or what to do.  I sat down and I couldn’t get up again.”

 

Angie lets go of Peggy’s hand under the coat and stands from the bench.  She doesn’t look at her mother or Peggy before she takes off down the path.

 

“One day she will see that we tried to do what was best for her.”  Mrs. Martinelli sighs, folding her hands together in her lap.

 

Peggy studies her; the lines on her face, her eyes that are so similar to Angie’s, and the same frown that Angie has when she’s upset.

 

“One day you will see that there was never anything wrong with her.  That she was worth loving all along.”

 

“You think I don’t love my daughter, Miss Carter?” She sounds insulted and Peggy doesn’t feel any remorse.

 

“I think you don’t know how to love someone you don’t understand.  And because of that, you hurt her.  You turned her into someone she doesn’t love anymore.  And I will happily spend the rest of my life helping her learn to love herself again.”

 

Peggy leaves Mrs. Martinelli before she can respond. She isn’t interested in anything she has to say.  Instead, she focuses her energy on finding Angie.  She’s fairly certain she will have returned to their home, craving the darkness of the room they have been sharing for the past week.

 

When she arrives at their penthouse, Angie is curled on the ground outside the door.

 

“You have the keys.  Guess I shoulda thought about that before I ran off.” Her voice is even, she tries to smile but her tone betrays her.

 

Peggy helps her to stand, brushing a loose curl behind her ear, “How about we figure out something to eat for dinner?” Peggy asks, pushing her key into the lock and ushering Angie into the foyer.

 

“M’not hungry.”  Angie shrugs off her coat, hanging it on the rack and kicking her shoes off.

 

“You need to eat something.”  Peggy sighs, following Angie to the bottom of the staircase. “Please.”

 

Angie’s shoulders slump, turning around to face Peggy from her place on the bottom step.  “I still don’t understand you, English.”

 

“What is there to understand?”

 

“Why don’t you care about what I am?” Angie pulls at her sleeve, still not looking Peggy in the eye.

 

Peggy studies her for a moment. The shape of her face, her lips, the way her eyes flit from place to place, the quiver in her lower lip. “I care that you’re kind, and brave. I care that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”  Angie scoffs. “Did you know you recite Shakespeare in your sleep?  Ophelia, Helena, Oberon, Gower.  They’re mostly mumbles, but you sigh through the words in your sleep.”  Angie finally looks at her, but Peggy can’t read her expression. “I care that you are impossibly stubborn and that you are a fierce and loyal friend.”

 

Angie breathes, quiet tears begin to make their way down her face, carving an all too familiar path.

 

“I care about you as a whole, Angie. Not just the individual parts that make you who you are.  Although I’m beginning to love all of them for their own reasons.  And I’d like it very much if you’d allow me to love you, every part of you.”

 

Peggy doesn’t move towards her, instead she extends her hand, waiting for Angie to make her own choice.  When she reaches out, her hand shakes and feels soft in Peggy’s. Angie slowly takes a step towards her, closing the distance to stand toe to toe with Peggy.

 

“You are worth loving, Angie.” Peggy tells her, brushing her free hand against her cheek.  “I’d very much like to prove it to you.”

 

Angie nods, “Okay,” her voice quiet as Peggy pulls her into an embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, yeah. I'm sorry?


End file.
